


I Will Be Silent (And Kiss You Back)

by PunnyMcGee



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Anal, Drunk Sex, M/M, Morning After, NSFW, One Night Stand, Physical Abuse, Protected Sex, Sex, Verbal Abuse, also first time writing nsfw be k i n d, graphic depictions of physical abuse, keith's a slut and a mechanic, lance is a top college student with a well-kept secret about his family life, this is less a one night stand and more making love but that's just my style of writing, waggles brows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-27 18:08:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12587632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunnyMcGee/pseuds/PunnyMcGee
Summary: Keith is a school drop out who's a part-time as a mechanic and part-time alcoholic, who searches for a pretty face to spend the night with as often as he can get. When he picks a drunken Lance out of the partying crowd one night, he gets what he was after, and finds out a dark, disgusting secret that he never wanted to know from such a pretty face.





	I Will Be Silent (And Kiss You Back)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is for the Klance Big Bang. The art is by the lovely and ridiculously talented [Aru-paru](https://aru-paru.tumblr.com/)~
> 
> This is also my first time writing NSFW, so keep that in mind while you're reading.

The house was quiet, the air somewhat chilled since their boiler is kind of finicky when it starts getting cold out. Late October was pretty notorious for suddenly dropping in temperature, and just in time for Halloween. The wind fought with the branches outside, their silhouettes dancing on the window blinds where Lance had pulled them shut earlier. He could hear kids outside in the neighborhood, trotting from door to door and asking for candy. He glanced at the digital clock on the cable box sitting on the shelf just below their T.V., greeted by the little colon blinking loyally between the eight and the twenty-seven. His mother had taken his younger siblings out trick or treating nearly an hour ago, and surely they would be nearly done with the neighborhood by now. 

Lance had stayed home despite being invited out by one of his exes to a halloween party. The kids had left a rather impressive mess in the wake of their costume dressing and decoration making, but Lance had reassured his mother that he could clean it up while they were out, so she’d have nothing to worry about. She’d given him a gentle smile and pulled him down for a quick peck on the forehead, paired with a soft thanks and word of praise before being practically hustled out the door by her younger children. 

The mess had been absolutely astounding, but Lance was nothing if not a man of his word, so no sooner had his mother closed the door behind her had he set to work. He’d rolled up the long sleeves of his maroon sweater, and every once in awhile he ran a hand through his hair, mildly annoyed that it was long enough that it was starting to get in his face. He idly entertained the idea of getting a haircut soon. He ran a hand down his face with a sigh and scrunched his nose at the scratchy feeling under his palms - he’d need to shave soon, too.

Now the kitchen and dining room were spotless - table cleared, counters wiped, dishes washed and dried, floor vacuumed and mopped - and Lance had turned his attention to the living room, which was a disaster of kid toys and garments strewn about. He was already halfway through it, two separate piles of clothes and toys in the center of the floor, a loose stack of stuffed animals in his arms, when he heard the door open.

He turned towards it, hoping to see his mother and siblings come streaming in, all bragging about their huge hauls while his mother laughed from where she still stood by the door. But there was no laughter, or excited giggles, or wild tales of adventure in the night. A single, hulking figure slid into the house, and when Lance saw him, the cheerful smile on his face fell to dust. A feeling of foreboding constricted his lungs and filled his chest with fear. Still, he managed to swallow the lump in his throat, and speak to the guest standing by the still-open door.

“Welcome home, papa,” he greeted calmly, picking up another stuffed animal. The other raised his head and leveled Lance with a cold stare that made the room feel like it was encased in ice. When he slammed the door shut, the brunet flinched ashamedly hard, the stuffed rabbit he’d just picked up falling out of his hand and back to the floor. He leaned down and picked it back up with fingers he pretended weren’t shaking, “How was work?”

“Why do you care?” His father growled, the sound making the hair on the back of Lance’s neck stand on end. His instincts screamed at him to run, get away, but instead he continued tidying up the living room as if nothing were wrong.

“I was just trying to be polite, sir,” Lance answered softly.

“Well then you need to touch up on your manners, boy,” the older man snarled, and then he was striding across the room. Lance immediately righted himself and could only take two steps back before he felt his body freeze. He could only watch like a deer in the headlights as his father strode towards him, an inevitable car wreck that Lance had to watch approach in slow motion, knowing full well what was about to happen and being able to do nothing to prevent it. A bulky hand fisted itself in the collar of his sweater, the contents of his arms pouring back onto the floor, and he felt his heels rise off the ground an inch or so as his father dragged him forward to hiss in his face. “When I come home from a hard fucking day of work, I expect a hot meal ready and waiting for me. And do you see that kitchen? Spotless and devoid of a mess that might have been caused by a dinner being prepped?”

“I-I cleaned up the kitchen, sir,” Lance struggled to reply, but his father only dragged him a little farther forwards, Lance now having to stand on his tiptoes to avoid losing his balance.

“Well then where’s the fucking dinner, Lance?” His father snapped, gesturing sharply to the empty table. “Where the fuck is it?”

“In the f-fridge,” the brunet whimpered.

“Oh, in the fridge. Of course! How could I have been so  _ stupid!” _ He picked up his son fully from the floor while he spoke, taking a few steps forward before slamming him back against the wall to emphasize the last word. Lance cried out with a choked sound as the back of his head made contact with the wall, his breath knocked from him. “Am I expected to heat it up myself? Is that it, Lance?”

“I-I can heat it u-up for you,” the lanky male stuttered out, blinking to try and dispel the stars from his vision. His father doesn’t reply, merely moving his hand so his arm is braced against Lance’s chest, before he brings his other fist to connect with Lance’s abdomen. Lance would have doubled over if his father’s arm hadn’t had him pinned to the wall, but he choked out a yelp all the same. His father repeated the action a few more times, before both arms receded, leaving Lance to slide to the ground and curl in on himself.

“I don’t trust you to make my food,” his father spat at him before stalking away. Lance had no retort, merely lay doubled over himself on the floor as he tried to remember what breathing was. He heard his father rummage around in the fridge before slamming it shut with a snarl, then he grabbed his keys and left again, leaving Lance to shake in the living room alone.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, but he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and sluggishly retrieves it, wincing when pain washes over his shoulder. It was a text from Nyma, asking him one more time if he’s sure he wants to stay home and not go to her party. Weighing his options and the chance that his father might come back for a more purposeful beating, and the fact that not much else could go wrong, he decided to say fuck it and go. He shot her a text back and locked his phone, sliding it back into his pocket.

The climb back to his feet is hard, but definitely not the worst he’s had, and the pain in his abdomen and back dulled to a hard ache by the time he finishes cleaning up the clothes and toys. When the living room is at least cleared of those, he grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone charger as he slips out the door, locking it behind him. He knows his mother took a house key just in case he’d decided to go out, even though he’d told her she didn’t have to. Now he was grateful she did.

His car was parked next to his mother’s, and his father’s was thankfully gone. He quickly got into the driver’s seat and started the car, the rumble of the engine washing over him like a soothing purr. He flicks the radio onto a random pop station and backs out of the driveway, turning left and heading down the road on muscle memory alone, already more than familiar with the way to Nyma’s house. He still didn’t really want to go but he’d take anything as an excuse to put distance between himself and his father.

  
  


Keith has never been a fan of parties, despite how often he attended them. The stifling scent of cigarettes and weed mixing together in the air like a heavy fog, along with the smell of beer and more refined alcohols sinking into his clothes just by stepping through the door. Tasteless music pounded vulgar lyrics into the atmosphere, making attendees dance like hookers whose rent was due in the morning, six A.M. on the dot. 

But he wasn’t here for the music or the weed; he never was. He was here for free booze and a chance to hook up with a pretty face he’d forget in the morning. Standing on the far wall playing wallflower, he scanned the massive wave of people that shifted throughout the room. He nursed his fourth bottle of Blue Moon of the night, holding just enough of a glare to keep others from approaching who were sober enough to recognize it.

Nyma had invited him through their mutual friend, and Keith’s coworker, Rolo. Good dude, clean drug dealer, proficient at his job at the autobody shop Keith worked at part-time. Rolo and Nyma had a fling back in the day that didn’t work out, but now they were friends and the only two people who would even try to communicate with Keith and get him out of his apartment besides Shiro. They only ever succeeded when there was a party or club they wanted to go to or were hosting, hence why Keith was even here now. The only way he got out of himself was with a little coaxing purr from the buzz of alcohol and the sound of skin slapping on skin.

His eyes finally settled on a guy sloppily draped over a couch, one arm wrapped around the waist of a girl who was perched prettily on the armrest beside him. But Keith wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at him. The guy was all long legs and lean arms, skin like caramelized honey and mussed hair that was only further disheveled by the girl running manicured nails through it. He was grinning up at her, lips messily twisted in a smile and eyes hazy, fluttering long lashes at her as he said something, and she giggled.

Keith knew who the guy was. He was Lance Ramirez, a fairly popular guy at the college at the other side of town. High fraternity position, used to be part of the swim team - before he randomly dropped out - and generally pretty good with grades all around. Keith didn’t know his major, but it didn’t interest him. He was interested in the lilt of the other’s smile when he made a poor pun that had his peers groaning, the shine to his eyes when someone thanked him for buying them coffee or food, or the way he seemed to suck in everyone around him with his friendly attitude and wrap them in a warm blanket of comfort.

Now Keith didn’t want to admit it, since he knew the guy could be annoying at times, but he was kind of pining for him. But any sort of relationship with Lance was already a distant fantasy, especially since their first encounter. Lance had brought his car into the shop to be fixed and gotten in an argument with Keith after a misplaced comment on Keith’s own bike, spiralling out of control and leaving Rolo to deal with Lance’s mechanical issues while he secluded himself in the back room after slamming the door shut.

But that was neither here nor there. 

Here was Keith, drowning his inhibitions in cheap alcohol and zeroing in on his entertainment for the night, annoyingly pretty and addicting to listen to. Here was Keith, finishing off the last of his beer and setting the empty bottle down on a nearby coffee table, despite the high chances of it being knocked onto the ground again. Here was Keith, pushing himself off the wall and the tingle of a light, oncoming alcohol buzz washing over the back of his head. Here was Keith, weaving his way through the throng of messy dancers to get to the couch that Lance sat on at the other side of the room.

Here was Keith, glaring at the girl Lance had his arm around with a look that could kill, until she took the hint and slid away into the crowd. Lance whined as she went, a sound that hit Keith’s ear like an alarm bell and making him want to put himself in her place, if only to placate the other male.

“Aww! C’mon dude,” Lance slurred, sending a weak pout up at Keith. “I was like, tooootally gunna tap that…” Keith dropped onto the couch next to him, one hand already sliding up Lance’s knee, fingertips trailing the fabric of his black pants as they ghosted towards his hip. The brunet blinked sluggishly at him, confusion warring with the drunken haze to his gaze as he looked over at Keith. The dark-haired male leaned in closer, fingers tracing lines up Lance’s sweater like figure skaters over ice, until they met the angular point of the other’s jaw and turned his face to Keith’s own.

“Why tap that,” Keith murmured as he leaned in, leaving but an inch between their faces, and he saw the way Lance shivered as his breath frosted his chapped lips. “When you can slam _ this?” _

Lance narrowed his eyes a bit, incapacitated mind slow to process the underlying suggestion, before they widened in tandem with his lips, “Oh  _ ho! _ I see you, mullet, I see you.” Then his brows furrowed as his smile dropped in confusion, “But wait… I thought you didn’t ev’n  _ like _ me? Now you’re like, tryna pick me up?”

Keith leaned in closer, ignoring the way Lance leaned back in favor of pecking the corner of his mouth, “Mm, that’s the idea.” He didn’t give Lance a chance to respond, peppering kisses across the other male’s skin as he traveled across his cheek and the line of his jaw, dribbling down to his neck where they became harsher. The sweet smell of Lance’s skin mixed with the hanging scent of weed and booze, becoming an intoxicating drug all on their own as Keith sucked a mark onto Lance’s throat. Lance moaned, coherent enough to bite his lip to muffle the sound as he offered more of his neck to his pleasurer, not that anyone but Keith could hear it over the music. It rumbled in Lance’s chest, echoed in the skin of Keith’s hand where his hand had trailed down to Lance’s abdomen. 

With his face buried in that warm neck, teeth grazing temporary tattoos in their image into the bronze skin, Keith reached up with his free hand and slid his fingers into the brunet’s hair. It was short but soft, like teddy bear fur, and a little shaggy. Keith wove his hand through the messy strands and pulled Lance’s head back just a bit, gripping hard enough that Lance let go of his own lip and gasped. 

The hand that had been on Lance’s stomach drifted further down, undetected by the lanky male who was quite distracted by what Keith was doing to his neck, until it found the waistband of Lance’s pants. It stopped there just long enough to snap the fabric a few times before jumping over it completely, and settling on the increasing hardness of Lance’s crotch. Without much warning, he gave it a hard grind with his palm, and Lance tried to moan and suck in a breath at the same time, only managing to make a breathless sound when Keith repeated the action.

The dark-haired boy lightened his assault on Lance’s neck to trail kisses back up to his jaw, mumbling to the hard edge, “Let’s get out of here.”

“‘M too fucked up to drive,” Lance managed to breathe. 

Keith leaned further up and pecked the corner of his mouth again, lips grazing the skin there as he spoke, “Give me your keys, I’ll drive. I’m sober.”  _ Well, sober enough, _ he thought.

“Where would we go though?” The other questioned, more like a curious child than a grown man in college, blinking dreamy eyes under long lashes at him. “Not my house…”

There was something else in his voice, something Keith hated that he recognized in Lance of all people - fear. 

“You dorm on campus too, right?” Keith asked, and Lance nods his head. “Then let’s go there.” He stood, taking Lance with him with a gentle hand he reserved only for people who’d never feel it from him again after the next morning. They made their way out and Lance vaguely led the way to where his car was parked down the street, giving Keith the keys when they reached it. Keith knew his way to the college dorms, having taken more than his fair share of one-night stands there from previous parties. 

He parked as close as he could to the back entrance of the dorms in the student parking lot, and Lance was a little worse for wear than before, the alcohol probably hitting him harder now that some time had passed. Keith wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him upright while they walked, and Lance waved his ID over the door to unlock it. He was thankful Lance’s dorm was only on the second floor, so it was hardly any time at all before he was waving his ID over another keycard lock and they were pushing inside the single dorm room.

Keith wasted hardly any time. When the door shut behind him, he pushes Lance’s back against it as his lips found Lance’s own.  With one hand, he cupped Lance’s jaw and tilted it so their lips slotted together like puzzle pieces, both moaning lightly into each other as the kiss evolved into languid tongue strokes and hitched breaths. Keith’s other hand was flipped upside down, palming the hard wedge sitting confined in Lance’s jeans. The dark-haired male swallowed each sloppy moan Lance poured into his mouth, as if they were mouthfuls of water and Keith was dying of thirst.

Keith was many things when it came to sex, but patient was not always one of them. He had his moments, but they were so few and far between that they were hardly worth reflecting on. So when he broke the kiss after a few moments and dropped to his knees, simultaneously unbuckling Lance’s pants and tugging them down enough that his boxers were exposed, he was more than ready. Keith leaned in and nosed against the shape of Lance’s dick, clearly outlined under the plaid fabric. He mouthed dryly at it through the material, earning him a few whimpers from its owner. When he pulled Lance’s cock free a minute later, the tip was already beading with precum and Keith could feel blood pulsing through it under the skin of his hand. 

Another thing that Keith was when it came to sex - he gave amazing head.

With a glance up at Lance, who was watching him with clouded interest, he leaned forward and dragged his tongue along the underside from base to tip. Lance groaned in length with the lick, and it was more than enough encouragement for Keith to stay at the head and use his lips to gently slide over the swollen tip as he swallowed down onto Lance’s dick. He heard Lance’s head thud back against the door as he struggled to gasp and moan at the same time. Keith grinned around his dick, but didn’t sink much further down. Instead, he wrapped a hand around what his mouth wasn’t on and worked the area, while his tongue danced over the head behind his lips, gliding over the slit and smearing precum over his tongue as he massaged the hot velvet.

Lance was a whining mess above him, clawing against the wooden door behind him, breathy and needy for the few short minutes Keith was working his cock. When the dark-haired male slid off, it was with one deep bob of his head and a drawn-out pull, his tongue gliding over the underside of Lance, who groaned loudly as his knees started shaking. Keith thumbed a trail of saliva from his chin as he stood, shimmying off his leather jacket and stripping his dark shirt, letting both drop unceremoniously to the floor. Then he went back to kissing the brunet, who all but sagged into him when he put his hands on Lance’s hips. He shimmied the other’s pants down until they fell to the floor on their own, doing the same with Lance’s boxers.

When he pulled back, Lance followed him like a magnet, padding after him as Keith walked backwards towards the bed. He danced around the tan male, giving a semi-rough shove to the chest that had Lance falling ass-backwards onto the bed. Keith lorded over him for a moment, one knee on the bed between Lance’s legs as he hungrily pushed his lips to Lance’s once more. One hand braced itself on the wall behind them, the other absently kneading the warm flesh of the brunet’s thigh. Lance’s dick was at full attention where it stretched for his bellybutton.

Lance broke the kiss first this time, gasping softly into Keith’s mouth, “I don’t… have-”

Keith silenced him with another kiss, “Don’t worry, I’ve got stuff.”

Lance chuckled weakly, “You really come prepared, don’t you, hot shot?”

Keith ignored the pleased warmth that spread over his chest from the nickname in favor of rolling his eyes, leaning back to balance on his foot still placed on the floor, as he dug around in his pocket for one of the condoms and mini packets of lube he carried with him to parties. He’d had sex with more than enough guys who were getting fucked for the first time to know to bring his own supplies, just in case. He’d heard Lance brag about his night adventures with a few lovers to know he was at least decently experienced, but he hadn’t exactly gone to the party to pick up Lance specifically, despite how that ended up. And at the other’s words, he was glad he’d prepared himself beforehand.

“Lean back for me,” Keith instructed, sliding onto the bed all the way and guiding Lance down as he went, so he was laying flat on the bed with just his legs propped up on either side of Keith. The dark-haired male followed him down, crashing his lips into Lance’s once again, though they quickly traveled farther down to his neck, nipping as he went. Spurred on by the pleasured noises from Lance, Keith massaged an area with his tongue before starting to suck a bruise there, and Lance was practically melting into the sheets.

Keith’s hands trailed down the lanky male’s sides, pale fingers dipping under the loose hem of his Sweater and t-shirt before sliding under them and back up to his chest. A thumb brushed over one of Lance’s nipples, causing him to shiver and give away more of his neck to Keith, who’d already started working on a second hickey further down, towards his collarbone. When he was satisfied with that one, he pulled back to move to the skin exposed by his bunched up shirt, but he froze when his eyes landed on bruises far bigger than the couple he’d left on Lance’s neck.

Lance’s abdomen had bruises painted over his tan skin, sickly flowers of blood welling under the surface in petals of purple, blue, and red, staining the edges a sickly beige where bruise met untouched skin. They ran together like watercolors, and when Keith ghosted his fingers over one on the brunet’s diaphragm, he could see the vague shape of fingers closed in a fist where they had made contact with Lance’s body. They looked so painful, and maybe they were still tender, because as Keith’s hand brushed over a more swollen one Lance gave a small whimper, too drunk on alcohol and foreplay to realize what Keith was doing.

It made Keith angry, seeing this kind of treatment brutally woven into the other’s flesh. Lance was a real asshole sometimes, sure, and he could be too loud and overzealous, but Keith knew he was a good guy. He’d watched him from the sidelines when he saw him out with friends or at parties. He was always friendly and dazzled everyone with a smile, taking care of his friends that got too wasted too fast, or offering to pay for someone’s food when they couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d seen the guy walk into the store across the street from Keith’s shop where his friend Pidge worked at, bearing a large cup of coffee for the sleep-deprived and grumpy girl on her early morning shifts. 

Did he get in a fight? Maybe he was being bullied, but Lance didn’t strike Keith as the kind of guy to take that kind of treatment without a fight. With each broken sound that Lance breathed as Keith traced the bruises, he felt his anger melt, dissolving into a chocking sadness that coated his lungs and clumped together to form a lump in his throat. It was the kind of feeling he only ever had when he felt unbearably alone and vulnerable. They argued every time they saw each other, usually instigated by Lance for one made-up reason or another, but he never wanted to see Lance hurt like this.

A few vague images flittered through Keith’s head, memories of when he’d caught Lance’s bright smile fall to a colder expression, sad and lonely and hurting. But it was always gone the instant before anyone tried to talk to him, and if he ever was caught, he passed it off as homesickness or feeling down about a bad grade. Keith knew they were lies but they weren’t even friends. He couldn’t just walk up to the guy who always picked a fight with him and call him out on his feelings. That was just inappropriate and out of line for him. So he stayed back on the sidelines, and continued his string of drunk hookups and part-time job shifts.

He was brought back to the present by Lance nudging him with his knee, the bony joint digging into his side enough to have Keith blinking back down at him, “You gunna stare at me all night or are we gunna fuck?” Lance’s grin was drunk and lopsided, but the shakiness in his voice gave away his unease, “Not chickenin’ out, are ya’?”

“You wish,” Keith huffed as he gently tugged the other’s shirt back down to cover the bruises, leaving just his navel and a bit of his lower abdomen exposed. He made no move to continue where he’d left off. Instead, he genuinely took in a moment to look at Lance as he was.

Red flush splattered over his face in a bright gradient, becoming patchy as it travelled down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, which was wrinkled from all the tugging and bunching up it had gone through. His hair was sticking up at all angles, yet somehow still perfectly framed his face and made his high cheekbones seem even higher. His fingers were half-buried in the sheets, and the hickies on his neck were blooming prettily, miniature mouth-versions of the larger ones that decorated his stomach under his shirt.

They’d never turned the lights on, but the bright lamplight that sat outside Lance’s window was more than enough, the soft light draping the room in a quiet ambiance that made every hitch of breath and brush of skin ten times louder.

Keith decided he didn’t want to fuck like he usually did, all teeth and hard pants and rough, fast rolls of his hips into the other person. He didn’t want to hurt Lance anymore than he probably already was. He wanted to at least be gentle. So he pried the other’s hands from the loosely coiled fabric, and tried not to stall when Lance flinched at Keith’s oncoming hands. Lance’s hands were warm in his own, soft palms against his own callouses, and he guided them over his shoulders and behind his neck. Lance gave him a weird look, but left them there. 

Keith leaned back down again and this time, softly slid his lips over Lance’s, pleased when Lance folded his arms to bring him closer and smiled a bit against him. He hummed, hand moving down to trail over Lance’s dick, not really stroking, just teasing. Lance whined against his teeth as Keith’s lips broke into a grin, but then he was grinding the almost painful tent in his own pants against Lance. The brunet gasped into his mouth, but Keith kept the kiss chaste and his tongue in his own mouth this time. He repeated the action a few times, which Lance started returning, until they established a slow rhythm that had both of them making tiny moans and breathy sounds against each other’s lips.

He was surprised when Lance’s hands slid down his arms like running water, crossing over his bare chest and lower and lower, until they found the lip of Keith’s pants hem. His hands were shaking but they manage to unbuckle his belt well enough with a jerky tug, and Keith pulls back to unbutton them on his own and slide his pants off his body, dropping them to the floor beside the bed.

Instead of returning to Lance’s mouth, Keith shuffled backwards, grabbing the tiny packet of lube from where he’d abandoned it on the sheets. He knew Lance was pretty drunk, but not completely wasted. So while it may not entirely be lucid consent, it was better than just charging full steam ahead without even asking the other for permission.

“Ever been fingered before?” He asked softly as he settled between Lance’s legs, surprised to find a bit of roughness to his voice.

Lance blinked blearily at him, brows scrunching as he comprehended the question, “Uh, yeah… I mean, I’ve done it to get off before.”

“How many can you take?”

“Mm… ‘dunno. Only ever tried two.”

“Ever been fucked by a guy before?”

“Yeah, like, once. Was pretty wasted though, so I don’t remember much.”

“Well, let’s see if you’ll remember this time.” He paused for a moment, blinking back up at the other, “That is, if you’re like…  _ okay _ with me fucking you. Because if not, then like, we can totally just uh, watch a movie or something-”

“No!” Lance yelped, pushing himself up enough that he was more on Keith’s eye level. There was a bit of an awkward pause, and Keith could visibly see the blush over Lance’s face darken. “No, uh, I-I want to. I do.”

Keith stared at him for another few breaths before he let out a soft snort, pecking the other’s lips when he glared at him, whispering against the kiss-chapped skin, “Lay back down. I’ve got this.”

Lance swallows, pauses, then gives Keith a quick peck back before he obliges. The dark-haired male muttered a curse under his breath as he feels his face heat up, and opts for snapping the twist top off the packet of lube and pouring some on his fingers.

“I’m gunna start with one and work you up to three, if that’s okay. It should get you open enough for me without hurting you.” He bent down so he was more level with Lance’s groin, glancing up from under his swath of bangs, “But uh, let me know if you wanna like, stop and I will.”

“Okay,” Lance replied quietly, nearly a whisper. Keith didn’t need more invitation than that, so he softly pressed a slick finger to Lance’s entrance. He felt Lance tense, and moved to gingerly kiss the inside of Lance’s thigh.

“Relax,” he breathed against the warm skin, just loud enough for the other to hear. “If you’re tense, I can’t get in and it’ll hurt. Breathe.” He heard Lance take a long inhale, before a slower exhale, and his hole relaxed open. Keith took the opportunity to slide one of his lubed fingers in, up to the first knuckle, hardly anything too much. He pulled out a bit and slid it in further, hooking in the general area he knew the prostate was located. It took a few tries, but then he felt his finger graze along the tangle of nerves, and the sharp, stuttering gasp that had Lance kneading the blanket was all the evidence he needed to know he’d hit the right spot.

“Shit, right there,” Lance groaned as Keith rubbed over the spot again. Keith used just one finger for a bit before attempting to add another, but when he did, Lance hissed quietly.  So Keith started leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down the soft skin of the brunet’s thigh, until he was at the same level as Lance’s still-hard cock. He’d stilled his fingers when he’d felt Lance tense up again, but instead of reminding him to breathe, Keith used his free hand to angle Lance’s dick upright, and licked a long stripe on the underside again. The other moaned softly, toes curling where they rested beside Keith’s hips. When Keith took him into his mouth again, Lance hummed a shy note and exhaled slowly as Keith sank down on him. He relaxed, and Keith started moving his fingers again, this time using his thumb to massage Lance’s perineum. 

When Keith added a third finger, Lance was far too blissed out by the careful attention to his dick to even whimper if he felt any pain. He began flexing the fingers as he thrust them in and out, spreading them as he went to gradually stretch Lance to a more easily accessible flexibility. When Keith’s jaw started to ache, he popped off the other’s cock, but not without a needy whine from Lance.

“You good?” He asked, raising a brow when he noticed the brunet’s breath had become more labored than when he’d first started fingering him. 

“Mm yup, totally cool,” Lance hummed back, and while it was still evident he was nervous, it was far less prominent than before.

Keith chuckled, brushing his lips over the paler skin marbled by veins on the inside of Lance’s thigh, “Think you’re good enough for the real deal?”

Lance looked back at him with a mixture of apprehension and determination, and it twisted his face funnily, nose wrinkled as his brows scrunched together, “I… guess so?”

Keith narrowed him with a sharp look, “No guessing, Lance. You have to be sure.”

Lance pouted, but when he replied, he sounded certain, “...Yeah.”

Keith nodded, and then slowly slid his fingers out from inside Lance. He still had his boxers on, so he quickly wiped his fingers off on them before he rucked them down. He visibly sighed in relief when his own cock was freed before he slid his boxers the rest of the way off and vaguely dropped them somewhere near his pants.

“Dude…” Lance said, brows rising a bit when he saw Keith’s dick hang heavy between his legs, struggling to arch towards his belly. “Am I longer than you?”

“No,” Keith replied, though it sounded more like a question than a claim.

Lance’s eyes flashed between his own dick, still loosely grasped in Keith’s fist, and Keith’s own before he grinned sloppily, “Nah dude, I totally am by like, a centimeter.”

Keith used the hand still on Lance’s cock as leverage, giving it a quick stroke that had Lance stifling a moan as Keith grumbled, “Whatever, pretty sure I’m thicker than you anyways.”

“Sure, sure.” The brunet rolled his eyes, “Can we just get on with it already? My erection is starting to hurt.”

“Oh,  _ your _ erection is starting to hurt?” The dark-haired male hissed, but there was no bite to his tone. “I haven’t even  _ touched _ mine yet!” 

“Who’s stoppin’ ya’?” Lance inquired, raising a single brow at him. “You already stuck your fingers in me, might as well put your dick in, too.”

“Fine, but… try to relax, seriously. I don’t want to hurt you.” That seemed to catch Lance off guard, his other eyebrow raising to join the first as they piqued in surprise. But Keith looked away quickly and snatched the condom, tearing the package open with his teeth with practiced ease. He unrolled it over himself with a soft sigh, the slight touch of his own hand making him shiver. 

He motioned for Lance to lay back down, using the rest of the tiny packet of lube to slick the condom up before he lined himself up. He looked up at lance, question plain on his face, and the other male gave him a sure nod that looked almost sober. 

“Exhale slowly as I push in, it should help you relax,” Keith instructed, his hands wrapping around either side of Lance’s hips.

Lance’s reply was quiet and small, “‘Kay.”

When Keith started pressing in, the tip of the head pushing past the tight ring of Lance’s anus, he felt the other start to tense up before he sighed an exhale, and the slide in got a lot easier. Keith couldn’t stifle a moan as he was swallowed in that tight heat, thick walls of Lance sucking his cock further in, and he felt his fingernails bite into tan skin as he forced himself not to just fuck into Lance with his usual intensity. When he finally bottomed out, pulled flush to Lance, he stopped and let both of them breathe and adjust.

Keith moved down and gave a soft kiss to Lance’s diaphragm through his sweater, causing a little hitch in the other’s breath. The next one was placed on the unmarked side of Lance’s neck, grazing his lips over flushed skin.

“You can move,” the brunet said softly, almost a whisper, but Keith didn’t miss the nervousness that tinged the words.

“I’m not gunna hurt you,” Keith mumbled into his flesh, relishing in the way Lance shivered. He pulled his hips out a couple inches, then gave a slow roll of his hips to slide himself back in. Lance whined below him, and Keith kissed along his jaw as a distraction. He repeated the hip motion again, then again, and they fell into a rhythm. Keith never picked up speed, but from the tiny, breathy moans and pleasured whimpers from Lance, he didn’t think he had to. Lance’s cock lay abandoned on his belly, precum pooled to the left of his naval and smeared where his dick had been jostled and brushed through it. Keith took him in hand, giving longer strokes in time with his rolls, and Lance’s sounds grew louder. 

“You’re doing so good, Lance,” Keith said lowly, pressing another kiss to the square of the tan-skinned male’s jaw. “You’re so pretty. ‘Always thought you were pretty, even when you were being a dick. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about doing this with you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Lance gasped out between thrusts, “You sure have a funny way of showing affection.”

“Hard to when you were always picking fights with me for no reason,” Keith huffed at him, but the effect was lost in the gritty sound of his voice as he rolled his hips just right, pleasure tingling over his hips like a wave of static. 

“And now I’m drunk and we’re having sex,” Lance said, his words stuttering as Keith picked up the speed a little more. “So apparently, dreams  _ do  _ come true.” Keith didn’t dignify him with a response, merely changing his position to a sharper angle. Lance’s head lolled to the side, “Fuck,  _ right there,  _ Keith.”

“You’re so good at this, Lance,” Keith praised gently, nosing against the underside of his jaw. His voice wobbled with the thrusts, and he gripped Lance’s hips a little harder when he felt the other’s nails scrape over his back. “So good at everything. I see you all the time, strutting around like you own the place, just teasing me with these damn hips of yours.”

The dark-haired male moved his mouth to Lance’s own and kissed him soft and long, slotting them together as he picked up the pace, the sound of his skin making contact with Lance’s now audible over their mingled moans and breathy whines. A swipe of his tongue over Lance’s bottom lip and Lance opened his mouth for him. The pale-skinned male slid his tongue in almost lazily, running it along the surface of Lance’s own. The lanky male groaned into his mouth, his hands finally unfolding from the sheets and coming to rest on either side of Keith’s jaw, cupping his face with trembling fingers.

“Good at all the things I’m not,” Keith mumbled against his lips, their groans mingling together at a particularly perfect roll.  _ “Fuck-  _ so perfect. Perfect.”

Something wet tickled along his forefinger when he kissed Lance again, and his eyes fluttered open as he pulled back. Even in the dark of the room, his eyes were adjusted enough to see the tiny trickle of a tear, staining tan skin a dark copper. His eyes widened as he saw the unshed tear that beaded up on Lance’s other eye grow and fall over, slowly trailing down his cheek and disappearing between his sideburns and Keith’s fingers.

“Lance?” He said, leaning back further as Lance released his hold on Keith’s jaw and reached up to wipe at his face. Keith’s hips came to a stop, stalled as he thrust back in and tried not to flinch when Lance sniffled. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? We can stop-”

“No!” Lance said quickly, his voice cracking. “No, no, I’m okay, I just- th-the praising was just… too much. I’m… I’m okay, really. It feels so good, Keith, please don’t stop. I feel better than I have in months.” That doesn’t make Keith feel any better, but when Lance reaches up for him again, he doesn’t resist and lets the other wraps his arms over his shoulders. “I know you’re holding back, but I’m stronger than you realize. You can fuck me how you want.”

“Are you sure?” Keith asks, his voice solid, but only just. Lance blinks at him, eyes still moist and a few stray remnants of tears decorating his eyelashes, and nods. Keith kisses him soundly as he pulls back out and slams his hips in harder than he had yet. Lance opens his mouth to shout but Keith swallows it, tongue rushing to tangle with Lance’s own. His hips are more merciless than before, and yet it’s still gentler than Keith usually is when he has sex. He takes Lance in hand and gives harder strokes, occasionally squeezing for pressure before he returns to hard thrusts.

With the increased thrusts into himself and the expert hand on his cock, it doesn’t take long before Lance releases a strangled call. His voice catches on itself as he arches his back and throws his head to the side as he spills over Keith’s hand and onto his pale chest. Keith fucks him through it, but stops when Lance collapses back onto the bed, breathing labored and his hips still flush against the dark-haired male’s. Cum dribbles over pale fingers, splattered over the small expanse of tan skin like seafoam on cinnamon sand, and Keith idly wonders through his own panting if it would taste like sea salt instead of unpleasant bitterness that cum usually holds.

Keith starts to pull out until he feels Lance lift a shaky hand and lay it gently on his hip, squeezing softly and stalling his movement. Dark eyes find blue hues peering at him through slitted eyelids, a soft and dopey smile resting underneath patchy, red cheeks.

“You can keep going, just… g-give me a second to catch my breath,” he muttered, pulling Keith down further and nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Alright,” Keith says, turning to bury his nose in Lance’s mussed up hair. His skin smells like lavender lotion and cigarette smoke from the party, a bittersweet scent that Keith found he couldn’t get enough of. When he heard Lance whisper the go-ahead in his ear, he started his thrusts shallow and slow. Even through the condom, he could feel his cock graze Lance’s prostate, so he changed his angle to purposefully grind back into it. Keith reached one hand between them, wrapping pale finger around the brunet’s soft shaft, giving long strokes in time with his thrusts. Lance gasped into his skin, and it didn’t take him long to harden under the dark-haired boy’s hand.

Keith wasn’t expecting teeth to sink into the juncture of his neck before soft lips started sucking languidly. Its when Lance moves up to the more sensitive sides of his neck bites particularly hard, his nails clawing tattoos into porcelain skin, that Keith fucked in as deep as he can get and cums hard. Lance whines as the feeling fills him alongside his oversensitized cock, and he comes again. Keith groans, hips stuttering to fuck through his orgasm as Lance laps at the teeth marks in his neck. He’s panting when he stops, skin tacky with sweat and arms shaking where they still loosely hold onto the brunet’s thin hips. He swallows and starts to pull out, him and Lance both grimacing at the feel of him fully slipping out, filled condom sopping against the sheets. Keith quickly pulls it off and ties it, tossing it in the waste basket that’s by Lance’s bedside. He grabs a few leftover napkins on his desk from his takeout lunch earlier and cleans them both up quickly, tossing the wad in the garbage as well.

He turns back to Lance, whose eyes are hooded dreamily, tan fingers traveling almost lazily over the slope of his shoulders and up his neck. The cradle his face and guide him back down into another kiss that’s so tender that Keith would swear he was far more drunk than he was before.

“You were good, too, ya’know,” the brunet mumbles against his lips, his breath enriched with the tang of alcohol and Keith’s own taste. “You always are.” But before Keith can respond, Lance’s hands slip from his face and he’s fast asleep. Keith blinked down at him, the buzz of alcohol still in his head, but his thoughts clear. 

He eyes grazed Lance’s form thoughtfully, pausing when he saw a messy wash of dark purple peeking out from under the fabric of Lance’s shirt. With tentative hands, he lifted the material up and saw once again the horrible bruises splattered over Lance’s abdomen.

He was burning with curiosity to ask about them, but knowing Lance, he’d probably wave it off with a joke or snap at him that it wasn’t any of his business. And in all reality, it wasn’t. They had no relationship outside of tonight, and anything they may have made with it would dissipate like dew on grass with the morning sun, and he’d be gone. Just like always.

At least, that’s what he told himself until Lance shifted, wrapping a lazy arm around Keith’s waist, which forced him to move to Lance’s side. The brunet hummed in his sleep, snuggling into his bare chest as Keith looked down at him with a soft, pained look. His fingers brushed through Lance’s hair again, and he sighed softly to himself.

He couldn’t have this. As much as he wanted it, he knew he and Lance were too different, too much at each other’s throat for a relationship to happen. Lance was a near-perfect student, he socialized a lot, had scholarships and high marks. And Keith worked two part-time jobs to pay for his alcoholism instead of trying to go to school and pursue a better education. He shouldn’t taint Lance’s life with his toxicity. But another glance down to the deep bruises reminded him that others might not care how their actions influence Lance.

Sleep tugged at his eyes and he yawned. Lance was a warm weight at his side, his slow breath tickling against pale skin. Keith shimmied down and let Lance’s arm slide so it was over his diaphragm, the tan-skinned boy shifting to nose into the hollow of Keith’s shoulder. Keith drew one of his own arms under Lance’s, sliding it over his hips to cradle the small of his back. He sighed long and soft, closing his eyes as he finally let himself relax, tossing the blanket over them sloppily before he sunk into the darkness of sleep, soothed by the sound of Lance’s gentle breathing.

 

The first thing Lance registers is the smell of melted butter and warm syrup, which is unexpected but pleasant. The next thing he registers is how hard his stomach gurgles because of it, which is expected but unpleasant. The absurd amount of alcohol he drank last night, paired with how he’d had to pull over and vomit his dinner shortly after abandoning his house, had left his stomach painfully empty and his hangover mercilessly throbbing all over his skull. The light struggling to slide bright fingers through his blinds weren’t very helpful either, and made his room too bright for his liking when he blinked open his eyes.

His bed felt emptier than it had last night, and he groggily tried to recall why that was until he remembered that he’d spent the night with Keith. No,  _ Keith  _ had spent the night with  _ him. _

And they’d  _ fucked. _

Lance rolled over and groaned into the sheets, thinking that maybe if he suffocated himself, he wouldn’t have to deal with the tingling warmth that spread over his skin at the thought of Keith and him tangled in drunk union. But he heard noise coming from the tiny kitchen area of his single dorm suite, and the gentle sound of sizzling.

“You gunna make it, trooper?” Keith called, and Lance grumbled back something unintelligible, to which he thought he heard Keith laugh softly at. It made his stomach somersault pleasantly and his cheeks felt hot.

Keith?  _ Laughing? _ Christ, how much did he drink last night?

_ Enough to fuck the guy who hates you, apparently, _ a voice in the back of his head hisses.

Lance sighed and turned his head so he could breathe properly, reflecting on the night before, or at least, what he could remember from it. He knew they’d had sex but something about it was… off. It wasn’t like he’d expected it to be at all. He’d always thought Keith would be the kind of guy to keep to himself and let others approach him, and get off quickly when they did. But last night, Keith was the one all over him. 

Lance suppressed a shudder when he recalled the way Keith had kissed soft praises into his skin, and fucked him like he was the most precious person in the world. He bit the inside of his cheek as he felt heat flare up behind his eyes; a telltale sign of budding tears. He needed a distraction or something to keep his mind from wandering back to that sultry voice whispering kind words and worship into his ear last night. 

He was almost thankful when Keith picked that moment to round the corner and walk back into the room, padding over to where Lance still lay strewn on the bed, covers tangled over his waist and legs. The dark-haired male had a plate with a stack of pancakes in one hand, shiny with melted butter and warm, bronze syrup.  The scent of both became infinitely stronger now that it was in the same room as him, and his mouth salivated heavily. The other held a glass of water that he set on the bedside dresser. 

He was also just wearing his shirt and boxers from the night before, - which was a real shame and should be illegal, in Lance’s opinion - leaving lean legs and muscular arms exposed in all their perfect glory. His hair was marginally tamed, but still pretty mussed from night before, bangs framing tired eyes and an indifferent pout.

“C’mon, up,” Keith commanded, but his voice was lacking the usual bite. “Can’t eat lying down, and you need to eat.” Lance huffed at him before sliding his arms beneath his chest and heaving himself upright. The room spun a little bit and he scrunched his eyes shut, but he managed to get himself to a fully upright position, blankets still wrapped over his lower half. Keith gently handed him the plate with a fork, before holding out his hand and dropping two ibuprofen pills into Lance’s palm when he extended it. “Take those, they should help with the hangover.”

“Wow, was I really that good in bed that you made me breakfast?” Lance teased, popping the pills in his mouth and making grabby hands for the water-bottle he usually kept next to his bedside. Keith handed it to him and watched as Lance chugged a good portion of it before handing it back to him. 

“Not at all, actually,” Keith replied, lips spreading to a coy grin. “You laid there and took what I gave you like a good little kitten, mewls and all.” Lance nearly dropped his fork at that, blood rushing to his face, but Keith kept going with a shrug. “And I was hungry so I made pancakes. Didn’t wanna deal with your whining about not getting any, so I made you some.”

Lance glowered at him before cutting a chunk out of the stack, angrily shoving it into his mouth. But when the taste melted over his tongue, the brunet couldn’t help but close his eyes and hum soft approval.  The pancakes were so good, almost as good as his mother’s own, and he had to really force himself not to shovel the rest of them into his mouth. 

“I can’t believe you actually made me breakfast,” he said, muffled through a full mouth of delicious heaven. 

“And I can’t believe you live off this garbage diet and not die,” the dark-haired male replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

Lance rolled his eyes and swallowed,  "I'm a man of fine taste, Keith. It's not my fault all the best tasting food is cancerous.”

“You’re hopeless,” Keith says with a shake of his head, but something in his voice sounds almost… fond? It’s gone when Keith continues, though, “Anyways, how are you feeling?”

“Like I just went ten rounds with a zamboni,” Lance answers flatly, stuffing another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. 

“Could you be a little more specific?”

Lance tried to roll his eyes, but his migraine chided him, “Head’s pounding, throat’s dry, stomach hurts, and I fucking  _ ache.” _

Keith gave him a sympathetic look, but then his eyes dipped a little lower before he caught himself, and looked back to Lance’s face, “Well, the ibuprofen should help with the hangover and general pain, water should help with the dry throat, and the food should help with the stomach ache.”

“Awesome,” Lance says as he cuts another hunk out of his pancakes.

“Anything else hurt?”

Lance paused right before he took another bit, open mouth closing a bit as he quirked a brow at him, “What do you mean?” Keith gave him a meaningful look, glancing quickly down to Lance’s lower self before back up to his face. Lance felt his stomach flip nervously. He put his still-full fork down, eyes turned to the side, downcast. “Saw that, did you?” He saw Keith nod slightly, lips pulling into a thin line. The brunet sighed softly, “Listen, do both of us a favor here - forget you saw it. For me.” He added the last two words when he saw Keith open his mouth to protest, looking back up and giving him a flat look under a hard exterior. 

Keith studied him for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest in his usual sulky way, “Fine, but I don’t see why I should.”

“Because it’s not really any of your concern, anyways.” Lance chuckled softly, the sound tinged in an almost bittersweetness, “I’m just a one-night stand, right? No strings attached.” He finally put the forkful of food in his mouth, chewing softly as he purposefully avoided the other’s eyes.

Keith huffed at him, “Why are you so difficult?” Lance shrugged, opting to swallow and pop another mouthful of food in his mouth over replying. Keith sighed, bending down and scooping up his pants and jacket from where they lay on the floor. He tossed his jacket to the bed and slipped on his pants, the furrow between his brow deepening all the while. He walked back into the kitchen and came back with phone charger in hand and slipping his phone into his back pants pocket.

Lance swallowed as he watched him pick up his jacket and shrug it on, “Leaving?”

“Yep,” Keith answered without looking, heading for the door. “See you ‘round,” he called back flatly before he slipped out the door, and the soft click of his dorm’s lock sounded like a gunshot in the room. 

Lance sat there for a moment, in the resounding silence, the pancakes no longer looking as appetizing as they had when Keith was standing in front of him. He sighed, and slowly finished them off, forcing himself to eat all of them. Setting the plate aside on his bedside dresser, he fumbles for his phone, only to remember it’s still in his pant’s pocket from last night. He looks around, only to spot them still bunched up on the floor by the door, and he sighs. Untangling himself from his blankets, he shivers as he slips out of bed and onto the floor, his lower half still bare from the night before. He pads over to where his clothes lay, tugs on his boxers that lay next to his pants, and then digs around in the pockets to find his phone.

What he isn’t expecting when he pulls it out, is the little sticky note covering half the screen. He blinks at it, peeling it off as he walks over to the window to read it better in the crack of light slicing his room in half.

It’s a list in what he presumes is Keith’s handwriting. There’s just a few dashes like bullet-points, each followed by a little reminder about taking care of himself. It is such a little thing, but to Lance it’s huge. Keith, the guy who never gave him a look without scowling, who always snapped his replies in short, angry words, had left him a cute little note. Keith, the guy he’d had drunk sex with - the best sex he’s ever been a part of to date - had taken the time to make him breakfast and a hangover cure, make sure he was okay in more ways than he needed to for a one-night stand, and then left.

He rubs a hand over his face and sighs into his palm, looking down at the note again before his hand drops to his side. He tries to will the flock of butterflies in his stomach away, or to at least settle down a bit so he can wrap his head around the mess of emotions such a little note had stirred up in his chest.


End file.
